sniffle

My Dad came out to visit me Tuesday, he's heading back to Cleveland tomorrow. It's been nice to have him here and real nice for him to see the kids after close to two years without seeing them. My gosh, I don't even know where to begin with what's gone on this week. I'm sitting here alternately sneezing and sniffling and I couldn't figure out why until my Dad mentioned that I did spend a good part of the afternoon weeding. That explains it. There are so many flipping projects going on at this house but not a one is completed. It's like I have Bob Villa ADD. I'm stripping the interior doors and then I started on the back door and that led to the paint on the bricks surrounding the window and door on the back porch, which led into the window ledges because I couldn't deal with the chippy paint look. The window ledges got me started on the metal basement doors that were chippy and rusty. And when the paint chips from said doors wound up in my weedy grassy yard I then started digging up part of the yard and envisioning removing the garage and putting in a flagstone patio. My God, it's like fucking Macbeth how compulsive I am. God forbid I stop for a minute and listen to my head I'll surely go nuts so that's what the late night pig outs are for I guess.

Owen is taking swim lessons this week and next and it's a great time to flagellate myself for the myriad ways I feel that I've let him down. I mean he's closing in on 7 and can't swim to save his life, let alone ride a bicycle - he doesn't even have a bicycle. And I think of all that I had already accomplished at the ripe age of 6 with two divorced parents to just let me go off and play by myself, sort of find my own fun, without qualms or guilt. Why is it so different with me? On Wednesday Oona had a meltdown, as she's prone to do, and I brought her to the car since that's her time out place. The girl needs to be confined or else she'd be like a lemming running into the street or convulsing on the pavement and giving herself a concussion. I moved the car to a shady spot, put the windows halfway down (or else she'll attempt to get out) and was sitting there with her until she tossed her flip flop out the window. I got out handed it back to her and told her if she did it again it was going in the trash. There was a trashcan right next to us so I thought it was especially threatening. Well, she did it again and I placed it delicately on top of the trash in the trashcan. A man got out of the minivan behind me and walked over to see what was going on. I thought he was going to commiserate with me, these kids. But no, he was basically accusing me of child abuse by cooking my kid. It's too hot for her, she must be burning up. Of course I immediately felt horrible, and started second guessing myself and my time out in the car technique. It didn't help that he kept going on about the hot metal with the sun beating down and that she must be burning up. I had him touch her arm to see for himself that she was fine. Owen's lesson ended and my Dad walked him over to the car and got in smilling at the guy and saying pleasantries as he's wont to do. Are you okay now the guy asked me. I'm fine I muttered through my clenched mouth while telling my Dad under my breath the guy thinks I'm abusing Oona. We went to Beechwood Farms - bad idea since my Dad broke his leg in the winter and his ankle is still swollen and gives him trouble. Oona was sitting in the middle of a trail stubbornly refusing to move. It was one of those days where everything went wrong with Oona and I question whether I have any competency as a parent. We went out to Chilis with Toby where I drowned my sorrows in yet another calorie laden chocolate chip paradise pie. Oona was still acting up and Toby took her to the car. I joked that I couldn't with my luck the guy accusing me of abuse would be in the chilis parking lot. Then we went home and Oona acted absolutely insane for close to an hour fighting going to bed but she properly exhausted herself with the hysterics and passed out before 9.

So yesterday when I drove Owen to lessons I was panicky wondering if the man would be there. Ready to put the police on me - seriously I feared they took down my license plate and that Children's services would be at my door on Wednesday. I purposely parked in the exact same spot I had been with Oona and just cracked the windows. The weather was the same as the day before and I needed to assure myself I hadn't abused her. I'm chatting with a neighbor when I noticed Owen sitting outside the pool crying I ran over to see what had happened. His friends had pulled him under water, I couldn't breathe they were trying to drown me Owen cried. Now I don't think they were purposely trying to drown him, they were goofing around. But they're a year older and more athletic and not fearful in the water the way that Owen clearly is. I worry that I've instill this fear in Owen, although I love the water, I was a fish as a kid. I tried to talk with him about it after lessons but I was annoyed with the instructor and myself and his friends for freaking him out like that. He really thought they were trying to drown him even though I was trying to explain that it was just horseplay and he had to gain control of the situation by not letting the incident terrify him about the water, just brush it off. Right, I'm a stellar example of that, retelling Oona's abuse incident to everyone to find validation that I'm not an abusive parent (after an hour in the shady spot with the windows barely open the car was still cool). The instructor said Owen needed to go to the little pool with the younger kids because he wouldn't put his face in the water. I understood that but it seemed like she blew off the incident and I was thinking maybe if you made the kids that dunked him get out and sit by the fence for five minutes it might help things along rather than that you're almost sort of punishing my child by not dealing with his fear and pushing him off onto another instructor. Of course I never know what to say, how to stand up for Owen without coming across as a pushy stage parent. I talked to the instructors today and they understood my concerns but the whole incident pushed Owen into this resolve not to let his head go underwater so he wound up in the little kid pool. And I just torment myself with this guilt that I've got to help him overcome his fear. How could I let him get to this state around water? And he can't even ride a bicycle, you know the whole shame spiral, a vortex of my sucking as a parent. And the abuse allegations. My neighbor was saying I should have told the guy I cook Oona and starve my son, he seriously looks like he's starving but I swear I feed him. When we first joined the pool a young guy passing by turned around to gawk at Owen because he was so thin (you see all his ribs all the time). Then I'm like, what if he has celiac disease and that's why he's so thin and I haven't even bothered to have him tested. It's so flipping exhausting, my mind.